


Sherlock Ficlets

by sureimsherlock (missabigailhobbs)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Ficlet Collection, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-28 15:41:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/676078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missabigailhobbs/pseuds/sureimsherlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By-request short ficlets in a variety of pairings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock Ficlets

**John still has a favourite stuffed animal from his childhood.**

“John, what’s this?” Sherlock asked one day, a lazy Sunday in Baker Street. John looked up and blinked in surprise, a small smile crossing his face despite himself.

“That’s Mr Snuggles,” John said calmly, like that was a perfectly normal thing for 40-something year old men to say.

Sherlock blinked. “Mr... Snuggles?” “

Yes, Sherlock,” he said serenely. “Mr Snuggles. He was my best friend when I was about three. My constant companion. Took him everywhere, you see. Played with him until he fell apart and then my mum just patched him up again with new cloth.” He smiled. “My one toy I still have left from childhood. Don’t you have anything like that, Sherlock?”

Sherlock smiled and handed John the stuffed rabbit. He returned in a few moments with a stuffed albino otter. “Descartes,” he said with a grin. “Mine.” They laughed. “Perfect.”

**Sherlock's guilty pleasure song**

“What are you listening to, Sherlock?” John inquired as he came across the detective bobbing his head with a somewhat stupid smile on his face, black earbuds trailing from his ears to the headphone jack on the computer.

Sherlock looked up, startled. He did something on the computer and yanked the earbuds out. “Nothing,” he said, turning bright red. That was an odd reaction. Sherlock’s normal fare was Sarasate, Vivaldi, and Bach. And he was constantly forcing it on John in any case. He certainly wouldn’t be ashamed of it.

John pretended to walk away before snatching Sherlock’s computer and opening his music program. He gaped openly. “You’re listening to the Spice Girls?” Sherlock’s face could not have been redder. He retook his computer icily and clicked out of the program. “It’s... catchy,” he said tersely.

John laughed. “Well then. I suppose we all have our guilty pleasures. It’s alright, Sherlock. I won’t tell a soul.” “You’d better not,” he growled. He prayed John would keep his word. He didn’t need to be the laughingstock of New Scotland Yard. John only shook his head. He’d keep Sherlock’s secret. For now.

**Sebastian has a random phobia**

Sebastian Moran was afraid of nothing... or nearly nothing. He could stare death in the face, kill a man in cold blood, and blow up a building full of people with no regrets. But there was one thing he was absolutely terrified of: spiders. So it was rather a surprise for Jim to hear a girlish shrieking coming from the bathroom one morning as he was deciding between a grey suit and a black one. He rushed into the bathroom, thinking Seb was mortally injured or something. “What in the hell, Moran?” he growled, seeing no massive spurts of blood or knives or broken glass. Sebastian pointed one shaking finger at a smallish spider sitting in the corner of the room. He shrank away from it. “Kill it, Jim, kill it,” he pleaded. Jim rolled his eyes, grabbed an old flip-flop of Sebastian’s and smashed the bug. “Happy?” Seb nodded shakily. “Thanks,” he mumbled. Jim rolled his eyes. “Come on, tiger. We’ve got a job to do.”

**Mycroft and Sherlock have a tradition of sending each other annoying gifts**

Sherlock wrinkled his nose when John handed him the box. “No,” he droned. “Burn it.”

John raised an incredulous eyebrow. “You didn’t even look at it!” he said, thrusting the box at Sherlock.

“It’s from my brother,” Sherlock said, like that was an explanation. “Open it, you’ll see.”

John opened the box and pulled out... what the hell was this? He turned it over in his hand. “It appears to be a piggy bank... shaped like a man’s arse,” he said carefully. “And according to the label, it... makes a rude noise when you put coins in.”

Sherlock snorted. “Crude. He’s done better.” He looked up at John’s confused expression. “Mycroft and I have been sending each other irritating Christmas presents for years. It’s passive-aggressive, but we have to keep amused somehow.” John rolled his eyes. “So what did you send him?” he asked, honestly curious.

Sherlock smirked. “A giant chocolate cake.”

**There is exactly one food that Sherlock will never turn down**

John struggled constantly to get Sherlock to eat. He often grumbled that the man would willingly starve that brilliant brain to death if John didn’t force him to put at least a few bites in his mouth every day.

But there was one thing that John never had to force him to eat: chocolate covered cherry cordials. John wasn’t sure if it was the alliterative appeal of the food, or the taste, or the look of them, but Sherlock would eat them by the boxful if he could.

And that was precisely why, when Sherlock woke up on Christmas morning, he found almost three hundred boxes of his favourite brand of chocolate covered cherry cordials surrounding his bed and a note from John adorning the top: “Merry Christmas Sherlock.”

**Jim breaks Seb out of jail**

“Dammit Moran, I told you not to get caught,” Jim grumbled to himself. Of course he’d rescue his sniper from prison, but if he hadn’t been so /stupid/ he wouldn’t have gotten caught in the first place.

He’d killed a small security guard and stuffed them in a closet, stealing their clothes. He walked down the hall with the cap pulled low over his eyes. He made his way to the small cell where Sebastian was being kept and smirked at him.

“Hello tiger,” he murmured. “Ready to get out?”

“Oh hell yes,” the sniper growled, leaping up from the little cot in the corner. Jim unlocked the door and wrapped Sebastian in a tight hug.

“I missed you, tiger,” he admitted, holding the taller man close. He leaned up to kiss him softly. Sebastian kissed him back just as gently. “You too, kitten. How’d you work out getting me out of here?”

Jim rolled his eyes. “I’m James Moriarty, hon. I can get you out of anywhere.”

Another guard came up the hall and saw them. “Hey!” the guard called. Jim turned to Seb with a giant smirk on his face. “Tiger?”

“Yes Boss?” replied Sebastian innocently.

“Run.”


End file.
